“As man is given by the Spirit to share in Christ’s authority, he cannot do so without love, both for the created order in general and for the particular beings, human and other, which stand within it in various problematic relationships. Love does not bear the dominating and manipulative traits that have been given to it in some attempts to characterize the Christian ethic. It achieves its creativity by being perceptive. It attempts to act for any being only on the basis of an appreciation of that being. Thus classical Christian descriptions of love are often found invoking two other terms which expound its sense: the first is ‘wisdom’, which is the intellectual apprehension of the order of things which discloses how each being stands in relation to each other; the second is ‘delight’, which is affective attention to something simply for what it is and for the fact that it is. Such love is the fruit of God’s presence within us, uniting us to the humanity of God in Christ, who cherishes and defends all that God the Father has made and thought.” (Oliver O’Donovan, Resurrection and Moral Order, p. 26)

What I have in mind here isn’t primarily our mechanisms of conversing (it’s commonly agreed, for example, that digital technology has fundamentally changed the way we talk with/to/at each other, and not always for the better). What I have in mind is the attitude of our conversations, the basic relational posture we display toward each other, or what our parents called “manners.” It seems to me our society is losing its manners, and judgment must begin at the house of God.

One would expect serious adherence to Christianity to invest a believer with qualities that make for excellent conversation. To the contrary, it often seems that the more rigorous one’s Christian commitments (especially in youth), the more curmudgeonly one becomes. I meet and interact with sincere Christians who, for whatever reason, seem to need a fight, some mighty cause that involves bashing in helmets. They’re ready to fight with live opponents; they’re equally ready to fight with caricatures of their own inventing. If you’ve ever “conversed” with someone like this, you know it’s basically impossible, because s/he doesn’t listen long or well enough to understand you (understanding isn’t the point of the “conversation”). Eventually you realize s/he’s fighting someone who isn’t actually you. It’s best then simply to bow out politely and go find something fruitful to do. Dealing with the sort who badly needs an argument isn’t fun, but at least you can see the silliness for what it is.

There’s another way serious-minded Christians kill conversation, however, and it’s harder to see because it wears more grownup clothes. If the attitude just described is fire, this one is ice. What strikes you when you start to converse isn’t necessarily external bluster, but an iron fist under the glove. The tone of “conversation” is quickly set by the posture: “I’m the resident expert on . . .” (expressed in ways ranging from obnoxious to impressive). There’s none of the comfortable, inviting, “I’m a fellow learner with you” sense that you get with a real friend. You can’t tell this person what you really think, especially if you’re still working it through; it would only invite a lecture, derision, blacklisting, or some other unpleasantness. You may be listened to with varying degrees of patience; you may be patronized, even pitied; but at the end of the day, really, you just need to listen. That’s the only tranquil way forward. The expert’s conclusions are settled; if you are wise, you’ll join him. The idea that truth might lie other than where he is, or be broad enough to encompass at least part of where you both stand, isn’t one that gets any primetime in his head.

Should you meet this sort of “expert,” I suggest you excuse yourself as soon as possible. The alternative is to sit at his feet and believe whatsoever he sayeth. Be his views never so orthodox, you’re wasting your time if it’s conversation you seek; conversation is possible only between fellow learners. You can go a long way with someone whose posture is that of a fellow learner; even if you disagree vigorously and in principle, you will still learn a lot from each other. What will make it work is not agreement, but humility. Respect. Love.

For all the talk of tolerance in the 21st century, we’re not a society characterized by humility, respect, love, courtesy, or any of the other virtues once described as “manners.” And little wonder, considering the contents of so many saltshakers.

1. Demanding of other people what God does not require of them (“I will carve you into this or that form of what I want”).

2. Expecting of other people what God does require of them, but without joyfully bearing, believing, hoping, and enduring all things in the meantime (“you will become this or that right now, or you will know my displeasure”).

“Ye have heard, my brethren, . . . how that the publicans and sinners drew near unto our Redeemer, and how that He received them, not only to converse, but also to eat with Him. And when the Pharisees and Scribes saw it, they murmured. From this learn ye, that true righteousness is merciful, and false righteousness is contemptuous, albeit that the righteous also oft-times feel moved with just indignation at sinners. But it is one thing to feel thus indignant through pride, and another to feel so through love of law. The righteous [in] their hearts . . . prefer before themselves them whom they are correcting; they hold as better than themselves them whom they judge. And thus doing, they watch by carefulness over them, which are committed unto their charge, and, by lowly-mindedness, over themselves. On the other hand, they whose exaltation cometh of a false righteousness, look down upon their neighbour, but are softened by no mercy toward his misery, and are all the more sinful, because they perceive not that they themselves are sinners. Of such were those Pharisees who judged the Lord because He received sinners, and, in the dryness of their own heart, rebuked the very Fountain of mercy.” (Gregory the Great, 34th Homily on the Gospels)

“The overweening presumption that one is doing the will of God so unequivocally that others must be either converted or destroyed cannot help but result in the seductions of proud power or the equally pernicious seductions of angry powerlessness.”

I really miss Richard John Neuhaus.

A waste product of this shame is that we often project our own self-loathing into the hearts of others. If it’s hard to believe God looks on us with favor in Christ, it’s perhaps equally hard to believe others do. This would explain our wretched tendency to put nearly everything said or done to us by another person in the worst possible light: “Oh, she did that just to spite me . . . .” “See, I wasn’t included again, which just proves . . . .” “How dare he ask that of me! If that doesn’t show how little I’m valued . . . . ”

Of course, it may be that other people actually think of us much worse than we imagine – it is certain that they see our faults more clearly than we do. But if the gospel means anything, it means we can lift up our heads before God even when no one else will allow it; and it means we have power as His people not only to extend grace and favor to each other, but also to receive and trust this favor from one another. Love doesn’t assume another person sees me through my own graceless eyes, any more than it assumes the other person sees me through my own rosy spectacles. It believes, rather, that God’s truth and grace are at work in the heart of the other who names His name, and that He intends me to be the beneficiary of both.

“Only that expositor is qualified to be a teacher of the Church who is not essentially or strictly an improviser and individualist but who sees clearly that he must state his case and bear his witness to the whole Church before and after him, who has not merely been alone with God and the Bible and the writings of the Reformers, but who has stood before the whole Church with God and the Bible and the writings of the Reformers, and is therefore confident and competent to speak not only to himself or to an incidental and selected circle, but intelligibly, responsibly and authoritatively to the whole Church.” (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, p. 2.615)